


Prompt Fill # 1

by Shentarii



Series: TUA Prompt Fills [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: ABO AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ambiguous Age, He also can't provide any actual consent to what happens, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Omega Klaus Hargreeves, Rape/Non-con Elements, first heat, in case that's not clear Klaus is high AF during all this, off screen drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shentarii/pseuds/Shentarii
Summary: Prompt fill:    https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=128284"Klaus gets his first heat on a mission. He doesn't know what's going on but he encounters an older alpha who immediately takes advantage of a vulnerable omega. Would prefer if his siblings found him after the alpha left and they could scent he's been rutted."This is straight up smut, darlings.





	Prompt Fill # 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case the tags weren't clear enough - Sex happens, Klaus doesn't actually consent. There's a lot of hormone / pheromone fuckery, and he more-or-less enjoys it, but there's no Actual Consent. If this bothers you, please click back now. I've tried to tag appropriately. I may have missed some tags but most of the major stuff should be tagged. 
> 
> This is fantasy, filled for a prompt.   
> Age has been deliberately left obscure… Klaus has been shown as drinking / using weed or similar since Five had future jumped so. -shrugs-

  
He's been sweating for a while now, but it's summer and they've been combing this place for  _ hours _ , he hasn't had any time to notice past the increasing urge to peel his jacket off and loosen his tie. 

 

He hates the damn uniform anyway. 

 

“Guys?”

 

No response. The team had been scattered through this building complex as some sort of rescue mission, but Reginald - Klaus has refused to call him  _ dad _ in his head for a while now- wasn't too keen on sharing all the details. The fact Klaus had been somewhat distracted doesn't help - he knows they're retrieving information and a few artefacts, and if there's anyone left in the building help them get out. 

 

Hostiles, as usual, were expected to be dealt with however they saw fit without risking the mission. 

 

Klaus hasn't seen anyone in about two hours, has left his jacket behind somewhere back several hallways and a flight of stairs. He's sweating enough that it's running down his spine and soaking his pants and his shirt is sticking annoyingly. He'd strip and go jump in the tub to soak if he were home. Or a pool. Maybe he should sneak over to the pool after the mission- 

 

“Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes.”

 

Klaus whips around. He hadn't even heard any footsteps. Well, the place  _ could _ have ghosts he just had been a little too high to notice, maybe? Could the sweating be him sobering up? “Hey! Hello. Can I help you?” 

 

Hell, he has been faintly nauseous for a little while, but he'd been trying to ignore it. Sometimes it was just a side effect of the weed.

 

“Yeah. You can help.” The dude steps closer, movements a little stiff, but Klaus couldn't see any weapons. Not even weird lumps in the shirt line or anything. And he was too put- together to be the normal ghosts that like to haunt Klaus. No injuries or wounds or anything horrific. 

 

“Didn't know anyone would have been left in this section of the building.” 

 

Klaus puts on his best smile. “Yeah, I was checking on the same thing. Make sure the area was empty.” He shrugs, which merely pulls at the clinging shirt. “You're the only person in  _ hours _ ,” he complains.

 

“Good.” The man gets within a few feet of him, close enough to offer his hand to shake. There's sweat on his hairline, too, but there's a faint smell of something spicy. “This wing should be empty. Floor upstairs is, want company on your way out?” 

 

He hadn't said anything about the uniform or the domino mask, so Klaus assumes this guy bothers to read the news. “I still have to see it myself,” he says. Not that anyone would  _ know _ , whispered a traitorous corner of his brain. But Klaus knows this could be a trick. Just because the dude isn't openly carrying a weapon doesn't mean he's not trying to distract him. 

 

Now he  _ has _ to sweep the last floor, even if he wants nothing else than to get out of this hot as hell building and away to just about anywhere else. 

 

“I'll come with. Better than being bored, right?” The dude offers his hand finally, and Klaus reflexively glances at the hand before taking it. 

 

“Sure.”

 

The dude babbles about the heat, about what the place had been used for Back When, and Klaus tunes him out, responding at default intervals. Thy finish this floor and head up the last flight of steps. 

 

His  _ socks _ are soaked and sticking, and his pants grip uncomfortably, and he wants nothing more than to get this fucking  _ done _ . His skin is starting to itch from how much his clothes are sticking and he  _ hates this _ . 

 

Thankfully the last floor is mostly larger conference style rooms- a quick peek in is sufficient, and a few have large windows looking into them from the hall so Klaus doesn't even have to go in. The last two on the end are more office style, though. Klaus has to step into the room, quick visual scan, step out. The last one has a massive desk and a bookshelf, not unlike Reginald's study back home. 

 

Klaus steps in and shuffles around to the other side of the desk, scratching at an itch on his stomach. He notices halfway through checking the drawers that he's scratching bare skin. 

 

When had he stripped his shirt?

 

Wait. What was he even- 

 

“Number Four?” The dude is in the doorway, and Klaus stares at him blankly. Right. He was doing a check on the rooms. Would make sure this person got out safely. The mission. 

 

He scratches at the itch again as another trickle of sweat slides down his stomach. He needs to get out of here, get dressed, get- 

 

He doesn't hear the door click closed. 

 

“Hey kid-” 

 

The words he was going to throw back -  _ not a kid, fuck you _ \- die on his lips as a strong hand curls around his shoulder. The difference between the temperature is distracting, as is the pressure, and Klaus’ attention derails in a flash. 

 

“So pretty, so fucking clueless.” The chair is kicked back, and the pressure on his shoulder barely pushes him. Klaus drops into the chair with a soft sound, frowns up at the man in front of him. Why…? 

 

“Pretty omega, aren't you? Is this your first heat, precious?” 

 

Klaus shakes his head. What was even-  “I don't understand,” he mumbles. His head feels weightless, body burning, itching, sticky. 

 

He is never buying weed from that dealer  _ ever _ again.

 

“What are you-” The dude is stripping, shirt on the desk already, unbuttoning his pants. Well, it  _ is _ fucking roasting in this place. 

 

The smell of spice and musk is stronger.

 

They should probably- 

 

Musky, sweat-

 

They should -

 

He reaches over and drags his thumb over Klaus’ lips, and a heavy, overwhelming smell teases his senses. Klaus whines mindlessly. 

 

“Come on, gorgeous thing. You want more?” 

 

He's nodding before he can think about it, yes, that spice musk  _ something _ rolling over his brain. 

 

It feels like a different kind of high, if only Klaus can get just a little more. He licks when that thumb presses to his lips again. 

 

Salt and musk and something unknown obliterate him. 

 

“Good, sweetling. Open your mouth, Four. That's a good boy.” 

 

The dude is Right There, suddenly, as Klaus pants with his mouth open, shirtless on the edge of a desk chair. He can barely look up at the guy, licks his lips in pursuit of any lingering taste. He can almost feel the chuckle as he watches the dude reach down- obsessed with the hand that had introduced him to that taste- and watched as the other dude pulls a thick cock from his underwear. 

 

Wha-

 

Fingers that were  _ just handling that dick _ wave in front of his nose, wafting fresh scent at him. Klaus whimpers, leans forward to lick at that hand. 

 

It grabs him by the tangle of hair and the domino mask's knot, movement too quick to track. He's held in place, leaning forward from the chair, while that cock is brought closer. 

 

It takes one deep breath, fresh from the source, to finish wiping whatever resistance he had from his mind. 

 

“Come on, omega- slut. Lick it, get it wet babe. So, so good…”

 

Klaus licks and nuzzles at the offered tip, mouthing at it greedily. He’s completely tuned out the dude’s ramblings, focus honed in on the musk that is driving him mad. He squirms in place, lips wrapping around the dripping cockhead, body burning hotter. He  _ wants _ , but has no words for describing his want, nor how to satisfy it.  

 

He whines loudly when the hand tangled in his hair drags him back, brain not online enough to supply words. 

 

“Easy, easy now. Doing so good.” A hand pats his shoulder. “Come on, stand up a sec. Those pants are in the way, right?”

 

Klaus shivers. It feels like he's leaning against the hand on his shoulder too much, but he can't actually  _ think _ about it. His pants are sticking to his thighs and he scrambles to shove them down, off, anywhere but sticking to his skin. 

 

“So pretty, so good.” 

 

He’s panting, and overheating, and when he’s suddenly pushed forward against the cold wood of the desk he yelps and whines. It’s shocking relief, and he fumbles to turn himself around and plant his overheated back against the cold wood. He receives a chuckle and helpful hand for his efforts- pushed farther up the desk so his head threatens to slide off the other side but his legs are definitely dangling, back a cold wash of relief. 

 

“Feel better, gorgeous?”

 

Klaus nods, barely processing the words. Better, yes. So much better. His knees are pushed apart while he stares at the off-white ceiling and pants as he soaks the cool of the wood, and the brush of air over the skin between his legs feel just as heavenly. 

 

“Hold still, pretty. Gonna cool you down more.” 

 

The chair scrapes across the floor, and then strange sensation, knees lifted, and Klaus lifts his head. He can barely make out what looks like the dude’s head, between his knees, sees mostly hair and forehead and he opens his mouth to ask -

 

Wetness and friction scrape along his senses, ripping a loud moan out in place of the words. He drops his head back, thumps against the wood hard enough it sends stars glittering across his vision. Another flash of sensation burns through him, and the  _ want _ he couldn’t quantify from before comes roaring in, fills the empty places in his head.

 

Words fail to come, but he’s not silent. His cries and moans drown out the wet, sloppy sounds from the man between his legs, punctuated by the occasional cursed compliment. His body is on fire, but now is focused lower, burning through his thighs and stomach and ass. He feels so fucking high, but nothing like anything he's ever been on before. 

 

He wants more, more than he wants to escape, even if his feet are kicking the air uselessly, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs, holding him open wide, wet and slick- 

 

Something changes, pressure and a touch he doesn't understand, feels new but drowned in the feel of  _ everything else _ at the same time. His body seizes, vision exploding in stars again as his body thrashes and shakes. 

 

“Beautiful, so fucking beautiful, such a sweet omega.” 

 

Klaus hiccups on an inhale, throat raspy from a scream he can't remember. He sprawls on the desk and sniffles, every joint and limb feeling like so much dead weight. The desk is warmer now, not overheated but leached away at his feverish skin. 

 

It's not difficult for the man between his thighs to press his legs up, although the change in position garners Klaus’ attention. He's just not running functional yet, though, and what could be a terrifying realization for someone else has no weight yet on his brain. Not even when the man coaxes his arms into curling around his own thighs, bringing his knees to near shoulder level. 

 

It blocks out the view, but Klaus isn't even looking down the line of his own body anyway, staring blearily up at the ceiling. He’s only holding position because he’s folded that way, not through any extra effort on his part. He’s tired and sweaty and throbbing in ways he wasn’t aware he  _ could _ throb, skin as alive as his blood and both pulsing in tandem. He can feel the not-pressure of his arms caging in his legs, the trickle of sweat down his temple, the soft pinch of fingers on his ass, his toes getting cold in the air- 

 

There’s pressure back again, and he whimpers, a touch that trails in a brilliant, sensitive line across nerve ending that make his body light up all over again. 

 

“Fantastic,” rolls the voice, “slick and so ready, no longer a pup anymore, are you, pretty omega. Not a pup at all. So sweet and eager, yeah.” There’s soft pressure and then a sucking sound that merges with another brilliant blast of happy-sharp-sensitive. Klaus collapses, knees splaying wide, and he look down-

 

Looks down at the man buried face- first somewhere behind his balls, forehead mostly blocked by two large hands that spread him open. Whatever he's doing, feels deliciously, outrageously good. Klaus whines again, and dark eyes peek up at him, up the length of his body. 

 

“Don't wake up too soon, beautiful.” He stands up, and one hand releases his thigh before coming up to press against his lips. 

 

That musk is stronger than ever, and Klaus  _ keens _ when two fingers press teasingly to his lips. The man chuckles and shoves them into his mouth. Klaus sucks them in, hard- tongue and jaw working to soak and claim whatever that musk is. Wants it.  _ Needs it _ . 

 

Pressure like before, and Klaus is too unfocused, lost in that sweet heavy scent. It fills up all the little corners of his mind, distracts and entrances and stuffs more cotton-fuzz into the already overwhelmed mass of him. 

 

Pressure, and then weight and fullness, and Klaus keens against the fingers in his mouth as the  _ good _ becomes absolutely  _ fantastic _ . 

 

“ _ Good _ , so good, Number Four. Such a  _ good omega _ .” 

 

There's motion, and Klaus whines when the hand is pulled away. It's slapped down onto the desk next to his head, and he squirms in response, wanting, craving- 

 

The pressure -  _ inside, good, distant, so good _ \- slams into him and everything to his half-focused cravings shatters. Klaus wails, the sound filling the room, and he immediately grabs at whatever he can reach. Legs fall open and kick half reflexively, fingers claw at something, anything to ground him as a punishing rhythm starts. A hand grabs his wrists in a couple quick motions and slam them to the desk, pinning him in place. 

 

Klaus falls apart under the onslaught, nonsensical noises falling from his lips, body riding the hormone high and the rhythmic motions. It's everything he doesn't know he wants and completely more than he needs. 

 

_ You look so pretty with tears on your eyes _ . 

 

Sweat drips down his body, wrists pinned in place. Feet dangle and twitch as his thighs are pressed wider apart, higher. 

 

_ Look so good on my knot, won't you. Such a gorgeous slut _ .

 

Tension coiling in his stomach, skin feeling tight and tense and waiting. It's both a feeling Klaus knows and yet, so different, edges of sanity fuzzy. 

 

_ Take it, omega-slut. Take my knot _ .

 

Too much, sensation explosions and pleasure-pain-pressure- _ fucking hells _ -

  
  
  


Klaus whimpers as he drags himself off the hard surface. He aches, bone deep, and whimpers as patches of skin peel away from where he'd stuck to the surface. He blinks at it- wooden, glossy top. He has to glance around the room before he processes office, desk, and the shivery feeling of unknown. 

 

“There he is!”

 

“Klaus! What hap- !?!”

 

“Oh shit.”

 

Too many voices, and he holds up a hand in a futile attempt to ward them off, headache pounding behind his eyes. Body hurts, noise hurts, the room is  _ spinning _ . 

 

“Klaus?” It's Allison, and he stares blankly up at her between the fingers of his other hand. There's a frown on her face, and she's walking slowly toward him, hesitant. “Klaus, what happened?”

 

He doesn't know. He  _ hurts _ and he's sticky and naked and everything is too bright and sensitive and-

 

The whimper escapes instead of words, and she steps forward to catch him as he sways, tips off the edge of the desk. 

 

“Give me his jacket.” 

 

Material brushes over his shoulders but it's rough, and he whimpers again, tries to flinch away. Allison makes a soothing sound that sounds more like Mom. 

 

“H- home.” Klaus manages to rasp out. Doesn't care how he gets there. Doesn't want to be here. Wherever the fuck  _ here _ is. 

 

“Yeah. Time to go home.” She touches his face, gentle, and he winces. 

 

“I heard a rumour that you, Klaus, will sleep the whole trip home.” 

  
  


*****

 

 

His pants are ruined, the siblings discover. The jacket had been abandoned and found, but it's not enough to make Klaus decent. And whatever happened here…

 

“Did anyone see any strangers leave this area?” Luther is demanding in a harsh whisper, even with Klaus unconscious. 

 

“No. Would have pointed it out.” Ben looks green around the edges, eyes wide. If they'd had Five here they could just ‘port Klaus home, but they don't. Diego has shed his own jacket and is trying to help Allison support Klaus’ dead-weight self. 

 

“Luther, you're carrying him down to the car. Ben, radio ahead to Mom and let them know we need support when we come in.” Allison glances back at each of them. “Di, help me make sure I have everything picked up. Please.”

 

They manage to make it out without any further witnesses, the room left behind free of clothing but filthy, and Allison junks the entire uniform as soon as they get home. 

 

They all could scent what had happened to Klaus back there. They all have half a scent of whoever had done that to Klaus. And there are too many signs that Klaus at least hadn't fully been on board- he's skittish and wilder after they get him home and into the infirmary. He also refuses to talk about it, keeps claiming he doesn't remember. They've all agreed to not fucking talk about it until they know more, but Klaus locks down and refuses to talk about it, plays it off when he can and disappears when he can't. 

  
But they do agree on one thing:  _ no one _ will get the chance to hurt their brother again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I will do a second chapter / end resolution to this. So I'm calling it finished for now. 
> 
> For the OP for the prompt - I hope this scratches the itch!!


End file.
